On a red night
by strange'eagle
Summary: A mysterious girl crosses paths with a minotaur in the overtaken forests of Silvanesti. Oneshot.


Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonlance or anything in Dragonlance. Enjoy.

The whistle of the arrow pierced the silence as it flew through the air, burying itself in the neck of the sentry. He died instantly and silently. One down, nineteen more to go, thought the young woman with cold detachment as she notched another arrow. She crept stealthily through the forest, sighting another sentry. He died the same way. So she deposed of all five sentries in the same methodical way.

She crept out onto a ridge that overlooked the camp, careful not to dislodge any stones or pebbles that might give away her position. There, she studied the enemy camp, pondering the best way to proceed.

She had been wandering by the Silvanesti border, former homeland of the elves, when she had come across the trail of the minotaur patrol. She had tracked them, moving fast, and had caught up with them before they had gone too far into enemy territory for her liking. They had not been hard to track. The minotaurs were like dwarves, unaccustomed to the forest; the crashing and swearing were loud enough that she had heard them long before she saw them. She had hung back, unwilling to commence attack, until nightfall. Finally, night had fallen and the red light of Lunitari filtered through the trees. She had to be careful to avoid the pools of red moonlight which would illuminate her quite nicely for the crossbow wielding minotaur that sat apart from his fellows, watching the woods closely. That minotaur seemed to have good instincts, she noted coolly.

He was a veteran of battle; that much she knew from the numerous scars on his bear chest and snout. He also seemed to be an outcast, for the other minotaurs avoided his company, and when they were forced to seek him out they did so with a snarl of disdain twisting their thick lips. The minotaur seemed to expect this and ignored their behavior. He was the only one who seemed to sense her presence, for shortly after she had started shadowing them, he had watched the woods more closely and his hand stayed near his crossbow. The others hadn't seen anything and so also treated his behavior with sneering laughter. It was because of him however, that she had been forced to take extra measures to avoid detection.

Slipping off the ridge, and resuming her advance she thought that those minotaurs would soon be corrected. She would have to watch the crossbow minotaur, she mused absently, as she crept from shadow to shadow with the ease of long practice. Minotaurs were not beings that should be taken lightly, especially when they were on their guard.

She sighed inwardly at that thought. Though she felt it was her duty she did not like this business of attacking at night and slaying minotaurs off guard or in their sleep. Always when she came across a patrol of Brutes, dark knights, and even ogres she always shot an arrow message warning them to disarm, disband, and flee or they faced the penalty of death. True, most of the time they didn't heed her message and continued their activities, but she always gave them a chance to flee and the burden on her conscience was eased somewhat. Only once before was she forced to give no warning of her coming, and that was when a group of dark knights had a wagon full of prisoners; she hadn't wanted to compromise their safety. Most of them were elven refugees, a couple of Solamnic knights, and, oddly, a dwarf. She had slipped in, disguised, and had slaughter the dark knights while they were still in their bedrolls. She had tossed the prisoners the keys to their chains and had walked away without a word. She had made sure they made it back across the border and a little beyond before she had turned back, satisfied with their safety. She hadn't given the minotaurs a warning. She knew that they wouldn't flee, honor-bound beings that they were. And while she tried to act honorably she wasn't stupid, and twenty fit, battle-hardened minotaurs against one young woman of seventeen years were not good odds, no matter how skilled a fighter she was. She still felt bad about it though; she had a surprising great respect for minotaurs as a race and knew that her manipulation of their deaths would be shameful to them.

Shaking her head, as if to clear her head of the gloomy thoughts, she paused for a moment, her back against a tree. She put a hand in her thin, dirty tunic, and drew out the end of a back, collar-like necklace to reveal a beautiful garnet, about the size of an eyeball. Carved onto the dark red stone's flat surface was the profile of a lion in mid-roar; on the other side was scratched in a faint symbol of a bird, rising in flight. Rubbing the stone meditatively, she closed her eyes for a moment as she rested. Then she moved on.

She crept closer, eyeing intently the several minotaurs still awake, including the outcast. She couldn't wait any longer because they would soon discover the missing sentries and she couldn't wear them down because they were only a couple days march from an outpost. She really didn't have a good stragedy for this; she was just going to have to take them all on as quickly as possible before they used their strength in numbers as an advantage. Great plan, she thought wryly, as she silently made her way down the mountainous terrain.

She was close now; there was only one line of trees between her and the camp. She was nearly down on her belly now to avoid the gaze of the crossbow minotaur, inching forward, careful to keep her drawn bow taut and clear as she had only one chance to shoot before she would have to engage them at close range. She came to the last line of brush and carefully got into position. She sighted along the arrow, aiming at the crossbow minotaur. The instant before she shot the minotaur's eyes discerned her shape and his gaze met hers. In that instant she changed the destination of the arrow, aiming for his right arm. She loosed the arrow, dropped her bow, and reached for her sword, not allowing herself time to check to see if her arrow had hit its mark. She stood, drawing the Solamnic blade that she had taken from the corpse of a mercenary, probably a spoil of war. Wielding the sword with both hands, she charged in, a cry bursting from her lips that she had never heard before but seemed so right. "Solamnia!" she cried as she reached the first two minotaurs. The minotaurs had been some of the several that were still awake. They stared as the slight, cloaked figure, hood still drawn down charged at them. She drew back her sword and delivered a shockingly strong blow to the first minotaur, felling him before he even drew his weapon.

The other had managed to draw his axe, his eyes glowing red as he roared and swung at her. She had no time for defensive fighting. She ducked his blow, swinging her sword up, opening up his chest. Blood gushed on her front as the minotaur's huge form crumpled. By that time the rest had gotten up and grabbed their weapons. Six minotaurs charged her at once while the rest hung back, looking around, obviously thinking that this was some sort of raid by an enemy troop. She felt her face hardened as she became filled with a cold battle rage. Her movement blurred with speed as she fought, every blow felling a minotaur. The other minotaurs' faces mirrored shock as they saw all six of them fall before her like leaves in a storm wind. Shock was quickly replaced with rage, their eyes flooding with red, as they charged at the one who had slain their comrades.

She fought with a frenzy, desperate to keep them from circling her. Finally, there was only two left. One was a young minotaur, his eyes red with rage and bloodlust, wielding a huge minotaurian battle axe haphazardly. The other was the veteran, his right arm bleeding copiously as he wielded a short sword with his left, his eyes only tinged with red. The young minotaur roared lustily as he came at her, swinging his axe wildly. She parried an overhand swing, slipping out of reach. She was surprised to find that she was trembling from fatigue, her movements slowing. The minotaurs' strength and training had taken a greater toll on her that she had noticed.

The veteran minotaur, spotting her momentary weakness, swiped at her with his sword. She leaped back fast, saving herself from being cut open, but not quite from injury. The blade cut the right side of her stomach deeply. She winced, but kept on fighting. She parried his upper thrust that was intended to finish her. As sweat beaded into her eyes, a coldness swept through her and she ducked, feeling the wind of the axe's passing stir the edges of her hood. The young minotaur had come up behind her. A coward's blow!

She side-stepped to the left, coming out from between the two minotaurs. Her weariness fell away as fury fueled her. She struck with the suddenness of a snake, her blade coming under the young minotaur's guard and running him through. The young minotaur fell, a snarl still twisting his face. The veteran stepped in to take his place, a grim expression in his animal eyes.

She parried and thrust, blocked and dodged, her weariness coming back. The veteran fought left-handed with a skill that astonished her. Already wearied from the fight, she was hard put to match his strength, skill, and stamina. The wound in her stomach throbbed painfully. It told on her. Her foot came down on a stick that roll out from under her foot. She stumbled back and fell. This was not entirely unfortunate, however, for the minotaur had swung a cutting blow that would have opened up her chest and killed her instantly. Instead the tip of the blade caught on the catch of her cloak, snapping it off neatly. As she fell jarringly on her elbows the cloak fell back.

The minotaur gaped. The red light of Lunitari revealed a slender young woman barely grown. Her hair was a mass of split ends and varying lengths of locks, as if she had cut it with a blunt knife with no regard to what it looked like. The light hi-lighted her hair red, disguising its real color. Her face was pale and oval, her lips were perfectly shaped and crimson, and her nose was strong but not big. Her eyes were deep-set and dark in the stark illumination, and regarded him determinedly. Her cheekbones were high and accented by her hollow cheeks from her lack of food. Though she had the beauty of youth, there was an odd air of honesty around her. Her eyes were deep and wise, with a light in them that reflected a beautiful and unfathomable soul.

Author: And that's pretty much it. This story was written to be a continuation from the War of Souls but I decided after a while not to continue it. I would have totally screwed up the plot anyway.

Also, the girl is **not** Mina. She was supposed to be her opposite and equal. A balance you could say for Mina's great influence for evil.

This is my first submittion but not my first story. This is just a good piece of writing thatI felt compelled to share.


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